The Audition
by AylaWilson16
Summary: A woman living at the Sanctuary goes to try and convince Negan to take her in as a new wife. Negan/reader. Smut and language.


**Author's Notes: This just popped into my head the other day and I couldn't let it go. Just a smutty little fic with everyone's favorite Lucille wielding Walking Dead baddie. I own nothing of TWD except my awesome Negan tshirt. Feel free to leave feedback :)**

 **Rated M**

You put the finishing touches on your face and fluffed your hair as best you could. You gathered you looked as good as you possibly could in such dire times as this. Letting out a sigh, you run your hands down your sides and smooth out the dress you were currently wearing. It was light blue with short sleeves that hugged your body down to your waist then flowed out at the hips, stopping about mid-thigh. The top had a scooped neck which bared just enough cleavage. It wasn't the most tempting dress, but there were such slim pickings at the commissary. Hell, you were surprised they even HAD dresses. Not the most practical attire during the zombie apocalypse. Neither were the lacy black boy shorts and matching bra you were wearing underneath.

You bite your lip and look over the bathroom sink, currently covered with various makeup items. It took nearly a month of near back breaking work to save enough points to even earn the meager items before you, as well as a razor and a small bottle of lotion. The dress and lingerie included. You lost count how many times, you went to bed hungry for that very reason. As if on cue, your stomach grumbled in protest at having been only sated by a single granola bar, earlier that morning. Enough was enough. No one deserved to work THAT hard to barely make enough to feed themselves. You shake your head at the tubes of lipstick, mascara and other assorted compacts and let out a little laugh. It was amazing how such trivial things were taken for granted before the outbreak. Makeup used to be part of your daily routine and now such items were useless and impractical for survival.

You raise your brows in amusement, " _Well except in this particular situation."_

But apparently, even in the zombie apocalypse, looks matter.

You take one more glance in the mirror, utterly satisfied. Gathering up all your vanities, you head back down the hall to your sparse quarters. The bare walls and cold hard floors, made it resemble a cell more than a bedroom. You dump the items onto your cot and pause, suddenly apprehensive. In the six-months you've been here, the only other superfluous items you managed to earn was a book, some clothes and a thicker blanket. You trace your finger over the paper cover, which read "The Sisterhood of the Traveling Pants", by Ann Brashares. You read it several times over the past few months, the weathered pages offering you comfort with the simplistic story. It was one of the few things that would help you unwind after a long ten-hour day.

You turn away from your meek belongings and rub some cocoa butter lotion over your newly shaven legs. Yet another vain step that was once a normal part of your life. You grimace, feeling the rough callouses on your hands scraping over your legs. Just another _perk_ from working for points. Once you were finished, you slid your feet into the new simple ballet flats by the door. No way in HELL you were willing to put forth the small fortune of points needed to buy the high heels as well. You already sacrificed enough for what you got.

Once you were ready, you began to make the long trek across the compound to Negan's quarters. You did your best to look ahead with a straight confident posture, ignoring all the perplexed or smug looks thrown your way. There was no other reason for you to be looking the way you do. They knew what your plan was.

You wanted to be one of Negan's wives. Wife number seven to be exact.

Could they blame you? Anyone who wasn't a Savior or one of his wives was left with the hardest work for the worst pay. Left with little more than _scraps_. You had friends, even acquaintances, who tried to talk you out of your decision. As though they had any say at all over your choices. Did they _really_ think you hadn't already put an _ungodly_ amount of thought into this? That you haven't been preparing for this down to the very last detail? Was it so wrong to want a better life? An easier life? You didn't think so.

Your pace suddenly slowed as you realized you were nearing Negan's study. You would be lying if you said you weren't nervous. You had never heard of Negan turning any woman away yet. Then again if they _were_ rejected, you didn't imagine they would broadcast their humiliation.

You could feel your pulse begin to race and the uncertainty beginning to seep in. _Was this a mistake?_

You were very well-aware of what was expected from the wives. When you first arrived, the very thought of a woman willingly throwing away her pride and self- respect to prostitute herself for a cushy lifestyle, repulsed you. But as the months passed and you found yourself struggling, the more it all started to make sense. And it wasn't as though you even had anyone pining after you. No husband or boyfriend from the time before hordes of the undead scoured the earth. According to the rumors, Negan treated his wives _very_ well. They got the best clothes, food, and many other commodities the rest of us wouldn't _dream_ of wasting points on. The only thing he expected in return was looking pretty and occasionally sitting on his dick. Truthfully, it was beneficial for all involved.

Negan himself was by no means hard on the eyes either. In fact, he was incredibly alluring with his slicked back ebony hair, peppered with grey, tan skin, insanely white smile and tawny hazel eyes. And his arrogant confidence and overall enthusiastic charisma formed a plethora of assets you had always found attractive. Not to mention he simply radiated with both masculine prowess and dominance. You and many others witnessed firsthand how cruel and merciless he could be. But the Savior leader always had a reason to be so and it was never without merit. Someone would break the rules and had to pay the price. The rules kept us alive and if broken, punishment becomes a necessity. In a sick demented way, for you, it simply added an enticing layer of danger to Negan. The rare times you had encountered him in the past had always left you both curious and aroused. When you weren't too exhausted from the day's strenuous labor, your fingers would drift down to find the apex between your legs. Ministrations creating delicious friction while your mind flickered with thoughts of that guttural voice, rough hands and silk sheets.

You bit your lip softly as to not smudge the newly applied red lipstick. The door to the study lay just ahead of you. When you had talked to Simon earlier this morning, he said if Negan wasn't fucking a wife, he'd be in here. You stared at the dark wooden door, trying to gather yourself. _Could you really do this?_

Straightening up quickly, you shoved any hesitance to the side and knocked on the door before you could change your mind.

There was a brief pause before a familiar voice answered, "Come in."

You felt your heart skip a beat. _This was it. No going back now._

You slowly turned the knob and pushed the door open, taken aback by the view inside. Apparently, _someone_ at the sanctuary used to be an interior decorator. Everyone said Negan had a taste for the finer things, but you didn't think such lavish décor was even _possible_ these days. In the back corner, was a grand cherry-wood bookshelf completely-filled with leather bound books. Next to it, sat a rather comfortable looking crimson suede couch, adorned with several matching decorative pillows. An enormous and elaborate Persian rug laid across the floor, practically stretching from wall to wall. Thick red, elegant curtains hung in the windows and there was a damn _crystal chandelier_ hanging from the ceiling. On the other side, there was an intricately hand carved mahogany desk topped with books, papers, a map, a gold desk lamp, and a crystal tumbler filled with scotch. Sitting in front of one of the windows, in an ornate scarlet armchair, was Negan, notebook and pen in hand. Gone were his usual black gloves and red scarf. He was still wearing his trademark leather jacket, though it was unzipped, revealing a plain white V-neck. Despite your nerves, you found yourself drawn to the dark, curly chest hair peeking out of the top of his shirt.

Negan raised his brows up in surprise at you, his signature smile brandishing deep dimples as you step into the room.

"Well _hello_ there…" he drawled with a thick Southern accent. He cocked his head, intrigued, hazel eyes sliding appreciatively over your newly primped body. You felt your breath hitch slightly at his lewd scrutiny and your cheeks began to burn. _This is ridiculous._ It wasn't as though you were some blushing, untouched virgin. So why was this man able to put you in such a timid state? Maybe it was because he was looking at you like a wolf about to devour a particularly tasty morsel. And perhaps, that's exactly what you were.

Negan laid the notebook and pen down in his lap, his fingers raised to his mouth in an inquisitive manner.

"To _what_ do I owe this lovely visit?" He continued, his penetrating gaze bearing into you and you'd swear he could see right through the thin material of your dress. You nod, turning briefly to close the door behind you and take a few steps forward.

"Hi…um sorry to bother you but"- you start to say, but he cuts you off quickly.

"Sweetheart, looking like _that_ , you could never bother me," Negan says smugly, leaning back casually in his seat and depositing his notebook and pen carelessly on the floor beside him. His gloveless fingers wave you forward and his wolfish grin grows wider. You exhale slowly and take a couple of steps closer, heart beginning to hammer in your chest. _I can do this. I can do this._

You stand a few feet in front of him and even though he's sitting down, Negan still proves to be both intimidating and formidable. Being this close to him made you feel vulnerable, yet exhilarated at the same time. You notice Lucille leaning against his chair, never too far from his side. Thankfully from what you could tell, the lethal weapon had recently been cleaned and bore no dried blood or flesh from the dead. Your fingers twitch at your sides and you're unsure what to do with them. Straightening up, you take a deep breath and meet his intense gaze.

"Right…well I wanted to come see you and maybe…" you motion to yourself in what you hoped was a seductive manner, coyly playing with the edge of your dress, "work something out." Inwardly, you felt like rolling your eyes at your clichéd line straight out of a porno. You really wish you had bothered to come up with a much better sales pitch than _that_.

Negan caresses his chin thoughtfully, currently bearing a thick salt and pepper beard. You wonder briefly how that scruff would feel against your flushed skin. His tongue lightly traces his lips as his eyes once more drift up your body. As though he's taking in every single exquisite inch of you. You feel a familiar warmth beginning to coil in your stomach, welcoming, like a visit from an old friend. It had been far too long since you had more than your own hands to satisfy your carnal appetites.

"Is that _so?"_ Negan mused huskily, his acute attention finally returned to your face. His bottom lip was pulled between his teeth and his brows flicked up in mirth. You thought for one horrifying moment that he was going to turn you away.

Negan chuckles darkly and leans back into his seat with an air of arrogance. He nods to you, urging you to continue, "Well you have my full fucking _attention_ , doll. Come a little closer, I won't fucking _bite_." His predatory smile suggested otherwise. You breathe a sigh of relief and take a big step forward, stopping only a foot in front of his widespread denim clad legs.

He gestures to your obviously pampered appearance, the corners of his mouth curling up in a smug smile, " _This…_ could _not_ have been cheap."

You almost scoff, _No shit._ But you dial it back and simply shake your head, "No sir, it wasn't. Took me awhile to get everything."

Negan raised his brows and cocked his head curiously as he leaned forward slightly. "Then _why_ go through all the trouble? _I'm_ willing to bet you went hungry more than a _few_ times, paying for all this shit."

You give him a perplexed look, surprised he was even interested enough to ask. You shrug, indicating to your attire.

"What's that old saying? Dress for the job you want, not the job you have." You say, mentally congratulating yourself for such a witty retort. You had used that very same saying for the past month to urge you forward and convince you that you were doing the right thing. It became increasingly difficult to use your hard- earned points to pay for things that others would scoff at, rather than food or other necessities. It had become practically a mantra during those long arduous hours of labor. Not that he needed to know that.

Negan chuckled, clapping his hands once enthusiastically, "Fuck yeah! That is _exactly_ right. I gotta say darling, you impress the _hell_ out of me. You're the _first_ one who bothered to fix themselves up before coming to me. _That_ shows initiative and I fucking _like_ that. What was your name again?"

You tell him, feeling a newfound sense of pride from his appraisal. All that hard work was paying off so far and you were interested to see how in depth this little interview was going to go.

Negan repeats your name, the syllables forming a seductive purr that sent your pulse raising and ignited a flicker of fire within your loins. He leans forward slightly, tongue languidly tracing his lips, " _I'm_ guessing you have something fucking _delicious_ for me under that dress too."

You feel your lips curl into a playful smile, suddenly filled with brazen confidence. Seeing him regard you with such insatiable desire awakened something in you that had long been dormant. You felt like a goddess, irresistible and bewitching. And you were going to show him exactly why you _deserved_ to be here. Pulling your soft, clean, strawberry scented hair to one side, you take that final step forward so you were standing directly between his spread knees.

" _Also_ not cheap. Would you like to take a look?" With that, you lower your fingers and begin pulling up your dress at a purposefully teasing pace, earning a low throaty growl from Negan. He leans forward, raising his broad hands and sensually glides them up the sides of your creamy thighs. You let out an involuntary gasp at the contact and feel his hands touching yours as he slowly continues to push the fabric up until it's bunched up at your waist. Licks of fire scorched wherever his flesh met yours. Negan tilts his head and hums, regarding your black lace boy shorts with ravenous hunger.

"Oh sweetheart, I wanna do _more_ than just fucking _look,"_ Negan promises guttarly, his voice thick with unbridled lust. You feel his hands, clamp down on your hips and he quickly pulls you closer to him. You gasp softly, feeling your bare legs hit the front of the suede chair. As a reflex, your hands reach down to grip his shoulders to catch yourself from falling on top of him. Negan does not release his fervent hold and stares up at you with a wicked, challenging smile.

"But first, tell me…why did you come here?" he purrs, thumbs tracing tantalizing circles over your bare flesh. You feel your cheeks once again flush, but you know this time it has nothing to do with nerves, but rather the delectable yearning that is swirling between your legs.

You look at him with furrowed brows, confused by his question, "I-I already told why I'm here." You let in a sharp intake of breath when you felt one of his thumbs slip into the black lace to touch your hip.

Negan tsked you, shaking his head, "No you told me why you're in my fucking _office,_ not what led you here. Why do _you_ want to join our little _team?"_

You almost laugh at his odd choice of wording to refer to his harem, but you were decidedly distracted by his enticing stimulations over your exposed skin. Not wanting Negan to stop _anytime_ soon, you decide to be upfront with him.

"Working for points sucks. I work as hard as I possibly can and _still_ barely get by. I'm sick of it. I want a better life. And I think you can give it to me," You say honestly, looking down at him, anticipating his response.

The corners of his mouth curl into a sinful smile and he laughs gruffly, "Fuck _yeah_ I can. I could take _real_ good fucking care of _you_ ," He replies, words clearly holding double meaning and you feel your thighs clench in anticipation and avidity. Negan bites his lower lip, clearly feeling the effects of his words is having on your body between his hands.

He returns your gaze with hooded eyes and nods, his tongue tracing his lips deliberately. Negan leans forward and brushes his lips against your thigh, his fingers tightening almost possessively on your hips. Feeling his coarse facial hair pressing against your skin sends a shiver of electricity down your spine.

"Have you ever wondered what my _dick_ would feel like buried inside you _so_ deep, you see goddam _stars?_ " He inquired huskily, his warm breath raising goosebumps over your flesh. You bite your lip hard to muffle the moan threatening to escape your lips, your fingers digging into the thick black leather of his jacket. You were quite certain from his close- proximity, that Negan could smell your arousal pooling between your thighs.

"Many times." You admit breathlessly, feeling bolder by the minute and cursing your own damn pride for preventing this erotic meeting from happening sooner. Your body was burning with such fervor and aching need. You didn't want this prolonged anymore. Sliding a knee right up to his crotch, which to your delight was hardened and no doubt pressing painfully against the front of his jeans. Your movement pushed his face momentarily away from your thighs and pressed him back against the chair. He regarded you with an expression of both smug satisfaction and consuming need. You shift forward, balancing on your knee, hands sliding up to the tops of his leather clad shoulders. "Did I pass the audition?" you ask softly, hoping with every fiber of your being that your brash move was not premature and presumptuous.

Negan smirked, his piercing gaze trailing down your thighs and you feel his impressive cock, twitch against your knee. He pushes you back off the chair and places you once more between his knees. You stand before him, confused. The blue fabric still crumpled at your waist, your stimulated body already mourning the loss of his hands.

"Take off your dress." He commands in a calm neutral tone, relaxing into his chair and lightly biting on a finger. Hungry eyes never leaving yours.

You let out a sigh of relief and move to comply immediately. Pushing down on the cap sleeves, one then the other in a slow, teasing pace until your arms were free. Meeting his wanton gaze, you pull the soft blue material down past your chest, revealing the provocative black lace bra. You see his eyes darken as they take in the sight of your heaving breasts, threatening to spill out and begging to be touched. You hear him groan audibly in satisfaction and you can't resist smiling mischievously as you slowly push the dress down to your waist.

"Darling, if you go any slower, I'm liable to tear that _fucking_ dress off myself," Negan growled in a dangerous tone. You grin cheekily up at him, both incredibly aroused and satisfied by his reaction. Taking great care to press your breasts together, you slide the dress all the way down your legs. You step out of the crumpled blue dress and shoes and stand before the Savior leader with a hand on your hip.

Negan takes all of you in, his now obvious bulge and smoldering gaze fueling your desires.

You regard him with a wry smile, "So? You think there's room in your First Wives Club for one more?"

He laughs throatily, clearly amused by your loose movie reference. "Sweetheart, nothing would make my dick happier."

An overwhelming sense of relief and elation filled you. Paired with your overly aroused state, it created a cocktail of euphoria you never wanted to end. You couldn't fight the grin that formed on your flushed face.

Negan nodded slightly, taking in your reaction with arrogant amusement. He beckoned you with the flick of his fingers. "Now… come sit on daddy's lap. It's time to take our vows."

You raise a brow at the command, "Our vows?"

Negan nods, wagging his eyebrows playfully as he patted his thigh. You shake your head at the absurdity of his request, but are not at all unhappy with the prospect. Turning around to give him a nice view of your ass, you slowly sink into the chair, sandwiched between his legs. The close-proximity ignited that flame of wanton desire and you were damn certain your panties were already soaked to near ruin.

You feel Negan's hands clamp down on your hips once more and pull you back solidly against him. Feeling his thick cock pressing against your lower back, makes you bite your lip and your hands clench onto his thighs in anticipation. His lips press against your ear, warm breath washing over your neck and making you shiver. "Lean back sweetheart."

Eager to see what direction this was going, you comply, leaning back completely against him. Your head was laid against his shoulder, the metal teeth of his leather jacket was biting into the skin of your back. Negan ran his fervent hands up your sides, lightly nipping your ear with his teeth. Your skin felt like it was covered with thousands of razor sharp pins coated with ecstasy.

"Now…dear _wife…_ it's time to officially welcome you to your new life," Negan whispered dangerously into your ear, hands drifting back down to your hips. You lick your lips and nod, your heart pounding violently within your chest. Negan brushes his lips against your neck, flicking his tongue to taste your skin. You feel his fingers begin to dip into the black lace, and you almost come undone right then and there.

"When I say a rule, I want you to fucking _repeat_ it, do you understand?" He continues, fingers tracing tormenting circles just inside your panty line. You clench your teeth in frustration. _So close and yet so far._

You nod resignedly, your hands still holding onto his thighs for dear life. "Yes sir."

Negan lets out a deep throaty chuckle and you feel the vibrations lumbering in his chest. "Good girl…" with that, his fingers drift lower and touch that sweet bundle of nerves. You moan and arch back against him, feeling his cock strain against his jeans.

"Fuck _me,_ you're already fucking _soaked,"_ He exclaims and you feel his lips curl into a smug smirk against your neck. "I barely had to fucking _touch_ you and you're already about to come all over my fucking hand." With that he, dips his fingers along your wet slit, and you cry out in elation. Your fingernails dig into his thighs and you hear him grunt. Negan raises his other hand and firmly grips your neck. Not tight enough to restrict your breathing, but enough to keep you in place. To show you just who was in control.

His lips return to your ear, "Rule number one: you belong to me and _only_ me."

His skilled fingers, continued to roll over your clit and the foggy euphoria was already beginning to set it. You weren't sure how much longer you'd last.

"I…belong to you and only you," you repeat breathlessly, rolling your hips against his hand.

"Rule number two: You _do not_ fucking cheat on me. _This_ is the only fucking dick you need from now on," He growled, thrusting his hips up aggressively against you to emphasis his point. His fingers begin to speed up their titillating assault and your head rolls back against his shoulder. You feel your throbbing cunt beginning to clench as that numbing plateau begins to seep in. Bringing you to the edge of the abyss. All you want to do is jump.

Negan's other hand tightening around your throat, brings you back down to earth and you remember it's your turn.

"I will never cheat on you. Your dick is the only one I need," You say desperately, practically bucking into his hand. Negan chuckles darkly, beginning to roll his own hips against you.

He nips your neck, scraping his teeth against your jawline, "Rule number three: I'll provide for you and you _fucking_ provide for me."

You cry out loud when Negan's fingers penetrate you, curling inside you and brushing that sweet spot within.

"I'll…provide for you…and you'll provide for me." You repeat between pants, your entire body becoming numb with intoxicating pleasure. Mewling loudly, practically pleading for Negan to push you over the edge. His palm continued to create wonderful friction against your clit while his fingers stroked inside you.

Negan presses his mouth against your ear, beard tickling your overly sensitive skin. "I now pronounce you fucking husband and _wife,"_ he purrs as he brings you crashing with a tidal wave of euphoric gratification. You ride it out against his hand, your entire body both tense and entirely relaxed all at the same time. Your mouth opened wide in a silent cry of delirium. After what feels like several minutes, you finally settle back into your tingling body.

Covered in a sheen layer of sweat, you lick your lips. Panting and exhausted yet thirsting for much, _much_ more.

Negan removes his fingers from your panties and licks your essence off lewdly, as though he was tasting a rare delicacy. His intense, lust filled eyes never leaving yours and you almost come again simply at the sight. Gripping your chin, he crashes his lips to yours in a heated, dominate kiss. The taste of him mixed with you was intoxicating and you were disappointed when he pulled away, biting your bottom lip softly as he does.

He gives you a menacing smile filled with dark promise. "I'm going to need you to go rest up now. Because _tonight_ we're going to have a _hell_ of a fucking honeymoon."


End file.
